


In a Dream

by musikurt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musikurt/pseuds/musikurt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver meets the man he blames for ending his career and responds rather differently than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Dream

Oliver was pleased with himself. He had successfully convinced Professor McGonagall and the Hogwarts Board of Governors that the school needed a Quidditch coaching staff. Drawing on his own experience as a captain and later a professional player, he had made several impassioned pleas that were eventually accepted.

It had been decided that each house would end up with its own coach. He was selected as the Gryffindor coach by default and had hoped to be involved in the selection of the other coaches. Professor McGonagall reasoned, however, that the only fair way to do it was to let each Head of House do their own selection. Since all four coaches were meant to be equal, allowing Oliver to participate in the selection would be as though he was being placed above the others. He remembered muttering something about McGonagall becoming more and more of a Hufflepuff with every passing year, but he had accepted her reasoning.

Oliver was surprised at the choices made by Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. There was no specific rule that the coaches needed to be former players at Hogwarts, but he had assumed that would be the preference. Interestingly, however, those two houses had hired former professional players from abroad. He knew he would need to study their playing histories to learn about any unique approaches they might take in coaching strategy for their teams.

The Slytherin Head of House had been rather secretive regarding his choice. Oliver had inquired several times and was simply told the coach would arrive prior to the start of team selections. Several possibilities rushed through his head as he tried to deduce the answer on his own. Lacking much to go on, he never settled on a clear choice.

On the day of team selections, Oliver watched the entrance to the pitch with anticipation. His eyes searched for any hints of green robes making their way down from the castle. He laughed at himself as he realized he had likely never been so curious about something before. In the end, it didn't much matter who Slytherin had as their coach. What mattered was that he knew what he was doing and he would ensure Gryffindor would succeed.

He gathered the Gryffindor hopefuls in their designated corner of the pitch and asked the captain to explain to them all how tryouts would be conducted. A chill ran through him as he saw green out of the corner of his eye. The Slytherin team came flying in over the walls of the pitch. Oliver rolled his eyes at their over-the-top attempt at making an entrance, but he stopped when he saw the man standing in the Slytherin corner.

The devious smile of Marcus Flint was one Oliver could have gone the rest of his life without ever witnessing again. A somewhat skilled (albeit underhanded) Quidditch player and captain, Flint was the only one who Oliver felt could really best him during his tenure on the Gryffindor team. This rivalry had carried over into the few short years Oliver had played professionally and Oliver still maintained it was Flint who had hit the bludger that knocked him off his broom and caused his career-ending injury. Official reports were that the bludger had turned on its own, but Oliver was not willing to believe it.

Flint gave Oliver a nod and a wink. It took a great deal of restraint for Oliver not to rush over and hex him. He hadn't seen Flint since that ill-fated match and he now realized why no one was willing to tell him the name of the Slytherin coach. There was a small chance he might have stepped down from the Gryffindor post and thrown a wrench in his own plan. He knew McGonagall must have been the one to propose the gag order; she was aware just how much he needed this.

Oliver tried to ignore Flint for the remainder of the tryouts. He focused on helping the Gryffindor captain, but occasionally his gaze betrayed him and he found himself looking over across the pitch. A few times, he caught Flint staring at him, a quizzical look in his own eyes. Over the course of the afternoon, Oliver's rage at being in such close proximity to the man who ruined his career started to subside, but he had no intention of engaging in conversation with him. As the final trial concluded, Oliver let the captain know they could discuss selections over breakfast the following morning. He politely dismissed himself and quickly rushed to the side exit.

"Wood!"

Oliver recognized that voice. There was no way he would be stopping to turn around.

"Wood! Oh, for Merlin's sake, Wood, just stop."

"What?!" Oliver turned to find himself face-to-face with his longtime rival. He could feel all eyes on him and decided it would be best to avoid any sort of scene or confrontation. "Sorry, what is it?"

"Well, I know that this probably isn't the most ideal working situation. I hope this won't end up having to be too awkward."

Oliver stared at him for a moment. There was a look of sincerity in his eyes, but Oliver had always thought him to be a skilled liar. "Is that all?" Oliver turned to leave.

"Well, I mean, if it's not too much--"

Oliver turned back to face him. "If what's not too much?" Even he could feel the annoyance in his own voice.

"It's just that I heard you proposed this idea and put in a great deal of effort to convince everyone to get on board. So I wanted to thank you for that and also run some suggestions by you."

"I'm not in charge of this," Oliver snapped back. He felt his anger subsiding and he was not comfortable with that idea. There was something in Flint's demeanor that was causing him to soften a bit.

"I know," Flint added. "But I just thought since it was your idea, I wouldn't want to propose any changes unless I had your thoughts first. Also, you are probably in the best position to convince the administration of any modifications since you got this whole thing moving forward in the first place."

Oliver didn't know how to respond. His initial thought was that Flint's flattery had to be insincere and he just wanted to use Oliver to usurp the ownership of his idea. He could see Flint offering enough changes so that he could eventually claim it was his own idea. Yet there was a sincerity in Flint's voice that Oliver could not recall ever hearing before.

"I guess if you don't want to hear them, that's fine, too." Flint turned to walk away.

"Wait, no. It's just that, well, you know this is awkward. But I guess I wouldn't mind hearing your ideas. Tonight? After dinner?" Oliver cursed himself under his breath. He wasn't sure what he was thinking.

"Works for me. I'll stop by your quarters?" A bright smile swept its way across Flint's face.

"Sure. See you then." Oliver watched Flint walk away for a moment before he turned and left the pitch. His head was spinning and he was still processing what had just happened. He ran his hand over his wand, which was still in his pocket. He had thought about what he would do if he ever saw Flint again several times. Every scenario had involved a hex or curse of some sort, and yet he had just done nothing of the sort. He tried not to think about it as he slipped into his bedchamber and threw himself down for a nap.

***

Oliver was startled from his sleep by a loud knock on the door. It took him a moment to realize where he was. He had been immersed in one of the most awkward dreams he could ever recall having. He shook his head and went to answer the door. He stopped when he saw his reflection in the mirror. Taking a moment to fix his hair, he yelled to let his caller know the door was open.

"Evening," Flint said as he stepped into the room. "I brought some firewhiskey. I hope that's okay."

"It's fine," Oliver replied as he grabbed two glasses out of a cabinet and set them on the table by the fireplace. "Feel free to have a seat."

Flint place the bottle by the glasses and fixed his eyes on Oliver. "Look, Wood, I just feel like I need to say--"

"Don't. I don't need to hear you tell me again. You've already said repeatedly that you didn't do it and saying it one more time isn't going to instantly change my mind."

"I know that." Flint sighed. "I just wanted to say that I am sorry for whatever you blame me for. I honestly would never mean to hurt you, whether you choose to believe that or not. Just so you know."

Oliver gave Flint a curious look and shook his head. "What's done is done, Marcus. Please, sit." Oliver's mind wandered back to his dream from moments before as he took the seat across from Flint. He was cuddling in bed with someone. He wasn't sure who she was, just that she had pale skin and dark hair. Something didn't add up in the dream, though. There was something different about her.

Flint tapped Oliver on the shoulder. "Hey, do you want some?" He lifted the bottle of firewhiskey.

"Oh, yeah, sure."

"Where did you go just now?" Flint poured them each a glass.

"Don't worry about it." Oliver tried to bring himself fully back to the present. "So, tell me, what are your ideas?"

"Down to business, then? No small talk?"

"Just be glad I'm talking to you at all." Oliver was surprised that his tone was less toxic than he would have expected.

"Fair enough," Flint chuckled. "Well, you know that Madam Hooch has asked to retire, right? She's agreed to stay on until they find a new referee, but it sounds like they're having trouble recruiting someone. Refereeing at a school isn't exactly the most glamourous position after all."

"Making what we're doing much better?" Oliver studied Flint for a moment. This all still seemed a bit surreal to him.

"Probably not. But anyway, I was thinking we might be able to propose splitting that responsibility among the coaches. We might even convince them to split that salary four ways to increase our pay slightly. Which would sound greedy to anyone who hasn't actually seen what that amount would be."

Oliver pondered the idea and took a drink. He looked at Flint, studying his face. He felt like there was something he was missing. "I think that could work," Oliver replied, still absentmindedly looking over the man sitting across from him.

"It also turns out, somewhat randomly I guess, that our four coaches each played different positions during our own Quidditch careers. I know that we were hired to coach a specific house team, but what if we all worked together and each coached a specific position?"

"No loyalty to Slytherin?" Oliver was surprised at his suggestion.

"Well, I think we'd still work primarily with the team for which we were selected, but I could host periodic practices and workshops for all Beaters, you could do the same for all Keepers, and so on." Flint's hand was resting on the table and slowly seemed to be creeping closer to Oliver's.

"That's an interesting suggestion." Oliver froze as his eyes stopped on the crook of Flint's neck. The images from his dream came flooding back again. He was cuddling in his bed with Marcus Flint. It was surprising to Oliver that the idea was not all that disturbing. He was certainly shocked that the dream had occurred, but there was something that had almost felt calming while he was asleep. His eyes dropped to Flint's hand; their fingertips were now almost touching.

Flint followed the line of Oliver's gaze. He took in a deep breath and tentatively placed his hand on top of Oliver's. Their eyes met and Oliver pulled back his hand.

"Sorry, Oliver, it's just that-- Well-- I thought--" Flint's face flushed with embarrassment.

"Don't apologize," Oliver responded. "This is just very strange for me."

"I know. Especially since you still think I tried to hurt you. As I said before, I would never intentionally do so. I've liked you for a long time."

"It's not just that." Oliver tried to stop the flood of images from his dream. He was remembering the two of them kissing as they writhed around in his bed.

"Oh, right," Flint said with a look of realization. "Cormac."

"Wait, what?" Oliver snapped out of his flashback.

"Are you two still together? I mean, I never said or tried anything before because you had always dated girls in school. But when I saw the way the two of you were after your injury, I figured I stood corrected. I thought since he moved to the States you two were over. I guess I shouldn't have assumed." There was a look of disappointment on Flint's face.

"Cormac and I were never 'together'." Oliver's head was spinning again. As he thought about what Flint had just said, he couldn't help but feel the two of them had discussed this before.

"Oh, so I guess that means..." Flint trailed off. "I'm sorry, Oliver. I guess I got the wrong impression about everything. I'll go." Flint stood and pushed in his chair. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Oliver jumped up and stepped into Flint's path. "No, don't go. I've never done this before, and Merlin knows I never ever would have expected it would ever be with you. But something about it feels right." He put his hand on Flint's shoulder and pulled him in closer.

Flint hesitated for a moment before he put his hand behind Oliver's head and put their lips together. There was a surge of energy as the two of them connected. All of the passion, energy, and emotion between them joined together at once.

Every moment of Oliver's dream had come back to him. He had never believed much in divination of any sort. But everything that had just happened and several things he hoped he was about to experience had all played out in his dream. It was unnerving, but in a good way. As he pushed Flint onto the bed, Oliver made a mental note to visit Professor Trelawney in the morning to get a refresher on a few of her lessons he had chosen to ignore.


End file.
